How I Became A Faggot, Chapter 2

After first grade at the all boys school in black and white saddle shoes, I switched to a more "manly" blue and brown pair of saddles for second grade. But the teasing continued and finally became too much for me to take. So I started third grade in regular boys' shoes and threw my saddle shoes away. Today, in hindsight, I desperately wish that I had never worn saddle shoes again. If I hadn't, I might not be writing this pathetically perverted blog while wearing Steve Madden four-inch pumps, sheer black stockings, tight pencil skirt, white low-cut blouse, black bra and breast forms, matching black panties, wig, jewelry, makeup and perfume. If I had just never worn saddle shoes again I might know what it's like to have a wife and self-respect, instead of what it's like to have another man's cum in my mouth and dick in my ass.

But of course I did wear saddle shoes again. The desire never left. In eighth grade I asked my mother to drop me off at our local library. When she drove away I walked to a nearby shopping center and bought a pair of girls black and white saddle shoes. I told the saleswoman that they were for my sister and I'm sure she believed me. I mean, odd as it was, she could never have suspected that I wanted the saddle shoes for myself. She could never have guessed that I would bring them home hidden in my bookbag. That I would wait for my parents to go to sleep and then try them on, feeling their stiff, uncreased black and white leather on my feet for the first time in five years. That I would become almost instantly aroused and instinctively start rubbing my tiny penis, still in my underpants, against the sofa in our living room. That I would suddenly and unexpectedly explode in the first orgasm of my life while kicking the air in girls black and white saddle shoes.